The Serpent

by Kate Douglas Wiggin

　　Rose Wiley had the brightest eyes in Edgewood. It was impossibleto look at her without realizing that her physical sight wasperfect. What mysterious species of blindness is it thatdescends, now and then, upon human creatures, and renders themincapable of judgment or discrimination?

　　Claude Merrill was a glove salesman in a Boston fancy-goodsstore. The calling itself is undoubtedly respectable, and it isquite conceivable that a man can sell gloves and still be a man;but Claude Merrill was a manikin. He inhabited a very narrowspace behind a very short counter, but to him it seemed the earthand the fullness thereof.

　　When, irreproachably neat and even exquisite in dress, he gave aNapoleonic glance at his array of glove-boxes to see if thefemale assistant had put them in proper order for the day; when,with that wonderful eye for detail that had wafted him to hispresent height of power, he pounced upon the powder-sprinklersand found them, as he expected, empty; when, with masterlyjudgment, he had made up and ticketed a basket of misfits and oddsizes to attract the eyes of women who were their humancounterparts, he felt himself bursting with the pride and pomp ofcircumstance. His cambric handkerchief adjusted in his coat withthe monogram corner well displayed, a last touch to the carefullytrained lock on his forehead, and he was ready for his customers.

　　"Six, did you say, miss? I should have thought five and threequarters--Attend to that gentleman, Miss Dir, please; I am verybusy.

　　"Six-and-a-half gray suede? Here they are, an exquisite shade.Shall I try them on? The right hand, if you will. Perhaps you'dbetter remove your elegant ring; I shouldn't like to haveanything catch in the setting."

　　"Miss Dir! Six-and-a-half black glace--upper shelf, third box--for this lady. She's in a hurry. We shall see you oftenafter this, I hope, madam."

　　"No; we don't keep silk or lisle gloves. We have no call forthem; our customers prefer kid."

　　Oh, but he was in his element, was Claude Merrill; though theglamour that surrounded him in the minds of the Edgewood girlsdid not emanate wholly from his finicky little person: somethingof it was the glamour that belonged to Boston,--remote,fashionable, gay, rich, almost inaccessible Boston, which nonecould see without the expenditure of five or six dollars inrailway fare, with the added extravagance of a night in a hotel,if one would explore it thoroughly and come home possessed of allits illimitable treasures of wisdom and experience.

　　When Claude came to Edgewood for a Sunday, or to spend a vacationwith his aunt, he brought with him something of the magic of ametropolis. Suddenly, to Rose's eye, Stephen looked larger andclumsier, his shoes were not the proper sort, his clothes wereordinary, his neckties were years behind the fashion. Stephen'sdancing, compared with Claude's, was as the deliberate motion ofan ox to the hopping of a neat little robin. When Claude took agirl's hand in the "grand right-and-left," it was as if he wereabout to try on a delicate glove; the manner in which he "heldhis lady" in the polka or schottische made her seem a queen.Mite Shapley was so affected by it that when Rufus attempted toencircle her for the mazurka she exclaimed, "Don't act as if youwere spearing logs, Rufus!"

　　Of the two men, Stephen had more to say, but Claude said more. Hewas thought brilliant in conversation; but what wonder, when oneconsidered his advantages and his dazzling experiences! He hadcustomers who were worth their thousands; ladies whose fingersnever touched dish-water; ladies who wouldn't buy a glove ofanybody else if they went bare-handed to the grave. He livedwith his sister Maude Arthurlena in a house where there weretwenty-two other boarders who could be seated at meals all at thesame time, so immense was the dining-room. He ate his dinner ata restaurant daily, and expended twenty-five cents for it withoutblenching. He went to the theatre once a week, and was oftenaccompanied by "lady friends" who were "elegant dressers."

　　In a moment of wrath Stephen had called him a "counter-jumper,"but it was a libel. So short and rough a means of exit from hisplace of power was wholly beneath Claude's dignity. It was witha "Pardon me, Miss Dir," that, the noon hour having arrived, hesqueezed by that slave and victim, and raising the hinged boardthat separated his kingdom from that of the ribbon department,passed out of the store, hat in hand, serene in the consciousnessthat though other clerks might nibble luncheon from a brown paperbag, he would speedily be indulging in an expensive repast; andMiss Dir knew it, and it was a part of his almost invincibleattraction for her.

　　It seemed flying in the face of Providence to decline theattentions of such a gorgeous butterfly of fashion simply becauseone was engaged to marry another man at some distant day.

　　All Edgewood femininity united in saying that there never wassuch a perfect gentleman as Claude Merrill; and during the timewhen his popularity was at its height Rose lost sight of the factthat Stephen could have furnished the stuff for a dozen Claudesand have had enough left for an ordinary man besides.

　　April gave place to May, and a veil hung between the lovers,--an intangible, gossamer-like thing, not to be seen with the nakedeye, but, oh! so plainly to be felt. Rose hid herself thankfullybehind it, while Stephen had not courage to lift a corner. Shehad twice been seen driving with Claude Merrill--that Stephenknew; but she had explained that there were errands to be done,that her grandfather had taken the horse, and that Mr. Merrill'sescort had been both opportune and convenient for these practicalreasons. Claude was everywhere present, the centre ofattraction, the observed of all observers. He was irresistible,contagious, almost epidemic. Rose was now gay, now silent; nowaffectionate, now distant, now coquettish; in fine, everythingthat was capricious, mysterious, agitating, incomprehensible.

　　One morning Alcestis Crambry went to the post-office for Stephenand brought him back the newspapers and letters. He had hungabout the River Farm so much that Stephen finally gave him bedand food in exchange for numberless small errands. Rufus wastemporarily confined in a dark room with some strange pain andtrouble in his eyes, and Alcestis proved of use in many ways. Hehad always been Rose's slave, and had often brought messages andnotes from the Brier Neighborhood, so that when Stephen saw afolded note among the papers his heart gave a throb ofanticipation.

　　The note was brief, and when he had glanced through it he said:"This is not mine, Alcestis; it belongs to Miss Rose. Gostraight back and give it to her as you were told; and anothertime keep your wits about you, or I'll send you back to Killick."

　　Alcestis Crambry's ideas on all subjects were extremely vague.Claude Merrill had given him a letter for Rose, but his notionwas that anything that belonged to her belonged to Stephen, andthe Waterman place was much nea'rer than the Wileys', particularlyat dinner-time!

　　When the boy had slouched away, Stephen sat under the apple tree,now a mass of roseate bloom, and buried his face in his hands.

　　It was not precisely a love-letter that he had read, neverthelessit blackened the light of the sun for him. Claude asked Rose tomeet him anywhere on the road to the station and to take a littlewalk, as he was leaving that afternoon and could not bear to saygood-by to her in the presence of her grandmother. "Under thecircumstances," he wrote, deeply underlining the words, "I cannotremain a moment longer in Edgewood, where I have been so happyand so miserable!" He did not refer to the fact that the timelimit on his return-ticket expired that day, for his dramaticinstinct told him that such sordid matters have no place inheroics.

　　Stephen sat motionless under the tree for an hour, deciding onsome plan of action.

　　He had work at the little house, but he did not dare go therelest he should see the face of dead Love looking from the windowsof the pink bedroom; dead Love, cold, sad, merciless. His cheeksburned as he thought of the marriage license and the gold ringhidden away upstairs in the drawer of his shaving stand. What aromantic fool he had been, to think he could hasten the glad dayby a single moment! What a piece of boyish folly it had been,and how it shamed him in his own eyes! When train time drew nearhe took his boat and paddled down stream. If for the Finlandlover's reindeer there was but one path in all the world, andthat the one that led to Her, so it was for Stephen's canoe,which, had it been set free on the river by day or by night,might have floated straight to Rose.

　　He landed at the usual place, a bit of sandy shore near the Wileyhouse, and walked drearily up the bank through the woods. Underthe shade of the pines the white stars of the hepatica glistenedand the pale anemones were coming into bloom. Partridge-berriesglowed red under their glossy leaves, and clumps of violetssweetened the air. Squirrels chattered, woodpeckers tapped,thrushes sang; but Stephen was blind and deaf to all the sweetharbingers of spring.

　　Just then he heard voices, realizing with a throb of delightthat, at any rate, Rose had not left home to meet Claude, as hehad asked her to do. Looking through the branches, he saw thetwo standing together, Mrs. Brooks's horse; with the offensivetrunk in the back of the wagon, being hitched to a tree near by.There was nothing in the tableau to stir Stephen to fury, but heread between the lines and suffered as he read--suffered anddetermined to sacrifice himself if he must, so that Rose couldhave what she wanted, this miserable apology for a man. He hadnever been the husband for Rose; she must take her place in alarger community, worthy of her beauty and charm.

　　Claude was talking and gesticulating ardently. Rose's head wasbent and the tears were rolling down her cheeks. Suddenly Clauderaised his hat, and with a passionate gesture of renunciationwalked swiftly to the wagon, and looking back once, drove offwith the utmost speed of which the Brooks's horse was capable,--Rose waving him a farewell with one hand and wiping her eyes withthe other.